It was late winter. I was in the middle of planning my spring garden when I got the news. My parents had been killed by a train at a malfunctioning si...gnal crossing. They had no warning. They had no hope. They were crushed to death by a flying commuter train. I packed a suitcase, locked the place up and drove up north for the wake and funeral. I wasn't very damned happy with the Burlington Northern Railroad and took out a full page diatribe in the Chicago Tribune lambasting their maintenance. I pushed her back down on the bed. "Be still." I told her.It was several minutes of waiting before my naked mother appeared in the bedroom doorway. She had her equally nude husband, my father in tow, pulling him into the room by his hard prick.My Dad Steven's eyes bugged out as he took in the scene of his son flanked by his step mother and my girlfriend, all of us naked also. I'm sure my father noticed that my now waking prick was equal to his mature cock."Dad, I know you are a little surprised. "Hey," she protested, "and not there either." He moved his hands up to her back again, and moved his hips forward as well, and began grinding his crotch into her butt while he massaged her shoulders and waist with his hands. "How's that?" he asked, "a double massage, does that feel good?" "What are you doing?" she asked, craning her neck to look over her shoulder, "are you trying to give yourself a boner on me, or something?" Too late," he chuckled, "that happened as soon as you walked in the. “Paddy, me lad. Where can I park me boat?”Nobody paid him much mind until he said “boat”. Conversation slowed and stopped as we waited Patrick, the publican, out.“Shannon. You’re not here to start trouble are ye?”Well, the barman knew him. A small buzz of talk between sips commenced.“Paddy, me lad. Surely you know me better than that. I never start trouble.”“I know, but you’re always the last man standing after its over.”“Me boat?” Shannon didn’t like to be sidetracked.“The hooks are over the.